ince the Marquis was quite unable to make his voice heard above Lufra’s, he was obliged to reassure and to quell the faithful hound before demanding an explanation from his butler. While Lufra, released from bondage, fawned at his feet, whimpering with mingled relief and entreaty, and dulling the glossy surface of his Hessians in a way that would have smitten his lordship’s valet to the soul, he said, in a voice that was none the less terrible for its languor: “I thought I gave orders that this dog was to be taken to Upper Wimpole Street?”

His cold gaze rested on Wicken’s face, but James, the first footman, and Walter, his subordinate, quaked in their buckled shoes. Wicken, who was made of sterner stuff, replied with majestic calm: “Yes, my lord. Every effort has been made to do so. Unfortunately, the Animal refused to leave the premises, either with Walter, or with James. I regret to inform your lordship that when pressure was brought to bear he turned quite Nasty—even with Me! I thought it best to tie him up to the banister, awaiting your lordship’s return. Otherwise,” he said, outdoing the Marquis in frigidity, “he would have scratched the library-door down.”

“What a revolting creature you are!” said Alverstoke, addressing himself, much to the relief of his footmen, to Lufra. “No, no, down, damn you, down! Where is Mr Trevor?” As he spoke, his eyes alighted on his secretary, who had that instant emerged from his office at the back of the house, and was surveying the scene with something perilously like a grin on his countenance. “Oh, you’re there, are you? Then, for God’s sake, do something about this abominable mongrel!”

“Mongrel, sir?” responded Mr Trevor, in astonished accents. “I thought he was a—”

“Don’t try me too far, Charles! You thought nothing of the sort! Why haven’t you seen to it that he was restored to his owner?”

“Well, I did my best, sir,” said Charles. “But he wouldn’t go with me either.”

“Now tell me that he tried to savage you, and you will have gone your length!” said Alverstoke, repulsing Lufra’s adoring advances.

“Oh, no, he didn’t do that! He merely squatted on his haunches!” said Charles cheerfully. “By the time I had dragged him as far as Davies Street I judged it to be time to return, no fewer than three kindly females having exclaimed at my brutality to a dumb creature. Besides, I was exhausted!”

“Why the devil didn’t you bundle him into a hack?”

“We did make the attempt—all four of us—but he’s not the sort of dog you can bundle, sir—unmuzzled! That was when Walter got bitten. I daresay we might have contrived to get him into the hack, but we none of us fancied a drive in his company. The thing was that his mistress left him here, and here he was determined to remain until she reclaimed him.” Meeting Alverstoke’s eyes with the utmost blandness, he added: “I believe these Baluchistan hounds are famous for their fidelity, sir.”

“Oh, do you indeed?” said his lordship wrathfully.

“So I have always understood,” said Charles. He watched Lufra paw the Marquis imperatively, and a happy thought occurred to him. “Perhaps he would consent to go with you, sir?” he suggested.

“A little more, and you will find yourself dismissed with ignominy, Charles! If you imagine that I am going to lead this misbegotten cur through the streets of London you must be out of your mind!” He turned towards his footmen, so swiftly that they had no time to wipe the appreciative grins from their faces. Having reduced both to a state of rigid imbecility by the mere power of his eye, he said: “One of you—oh, no, you are already wounded, are you not, Walter?—You, James, may betake yourself to Upper Wimpole Street! Desire Master Jessamy Merriville to be so good as to come here to collect his dog immediately!”

But even as these words left his lips a bell was heard to clang in the nether regions, and the knocker on the front door was plied with enough violence to make his lordship wince. Walter moved to open the door, and was almost swept off his feet by the tempestuous entrance of Master Jessamy Merriville, with his brother at his heels.

“I’ve come for my dog—is his lordship at home? I must—Down, Luff! Sit!—Oh, sir, is that you? I do beg your pardon! I am excessively sorry, and I jumped into a hack and came the instant Frederica told me, because I knew what must have happened, and how she can have supposed that Luff would go off with a stranger—but females are such nodcocks! Pray forgive me!”

“Not at all!” said his lordship. “I am delighted to see you! In fact, I was on the point of sending one of my people to summon you, none of them being able to persuade Luff to leave the house.”

“Oh, no, he wouldn’t, of course! I do hope he didn’t bite anyone? He isn’t savage, but if he thought anyone was trying to steal him—”

“Ah, so that was it!” said his lordship. “He was labouring under a delusion, but I daresay that was Walter’s fault, for not making the matter plain to him. My dear boy, don’t look so concerned! Walter likesbeing bitten by large dogs, and so does Wicken—don’t you, Wicken?”

“The Animal, my lord,” replied Wicken, with dignity, “did not go so far as to bite Me.”

“He will, if you keep on calling him the Animal. Well, Felix, how do you do? What brings you here?”

“I wanted to see you, sir—particularly!” replied Felix, smiling engagingly up at him.

“You terrify me!”

Jessamy, who was receiving Walter’s bashful assurance that he had sustained no more than a flesh wound, turned at that, and said rather hotly: “I never meant him to plague you, sir! He would come, and I was afraid that if I pushed him off the step he would very likely fall under the wheels of some other vehicle, so I was obliged to pull him into the hack. And that was Frederica’s fault too! If she hadn’t said that you were going to Newmarket tomorrow—”

His irrepressible brother interrupted this speech without ceremony, recommending him to stop being a regular jaw-me-dead. He then raised deceptively angelic eyes to Alverstoke’s face, and said: “Youpromised to take me to see the pneumatic lift, Cousin Alverstoke, and I thought p’raps you had forgotten, and I ought to remind you.”

The Marquis could not remember having given any such promise; and he said so. His youthful admirer dealt summarily with this caveat, saying: “Yes, you did, sir! Well, you said We’ll see! and that’s the same thing!” Jessamy gave him a shake. “It’s nothing of the sort! If you don’t hold your tongue, I promise you I’ll give you pepper presently!”

“Hoo!” said Felix disrespectfully. “Try it, and see if you don’t get one in the bread-basket!”

Observing the angry flush in Jessamy’s cheeks, the Marquis judged it to be prudent to intervene, which he did, by saying: “Before you embark on this mill, let us repair to my book-room to partake of refreshment! Wicken, I don’t know what our resources may be, but I rely on you to conjure up suitable refreshment for my guests!”

Jessamy, his flush deepening, said stiffly: “You are very good, sir, but we won’t—we won’t trespass upon your hospitality. I came only to fetch Luff, and—and to repay whatever sum it may have cost you to save him from being impounded! We—we need no refreshment!”

“Yes, we do!” objected Felix. He directed his seraphic gaze, strongly suggestive of a boy suffering from starvation, upon Wicken, and said politely: “If you please!”

“Felix!” exploded Jessamy.

But Wicken, not more hardened than his master against the wiles of schoolboys, visibly unbent, saying benevolently: “To be sure you do, sir! Now, you go into the book-room like a good boy, and you shall have some cakes and lemonade! But mind now!—you mustn’t tease his lordship!”

“Oh, no!” responded Felix soulfully. “And then will you take me to that foundry, Cousin Alverstoke?”

A choking sound reminded the Marquis of his secretary’s presence in the background. He turned his head, smiling with false sweetness, “Ah! If I was not forgetting you, dear boy!” he said, with gentle malice. “Pray come with us into the book-room! I wish to make my—er—wards known to you: Jessamy, and Felix—Mr Trevor!” He waited while the boys, mindful of their manners, executed two bows before shaking hands with Mr Trevor, and then marshalled the party into his library, saying, as soon as the door was closed: “You’ve put yourself in fortune’s way, Felix: Mr Trevor knows far more than I do about pneumatic lifts, and is the very man to take you to the foundry.”

“You are too nattering, sir!” said Charles promptly. “I am very sure I don’t!”

“Well, you can’t know less!” said his lordship, in an undervoice charged with asperity.

“Yes, but you said you would take me yourself, Cousin Alverstoke!”

Hot with embarrassment, Jessamy besought his brother to stop plaguing his lordship to do what anyone but a gudgeon could see he didn’t want to do. This had the effect of causing Felix to direct a look of heartrending reproach at the Marquis, and to say, in the voice of one mortally wounded: “I thought you did want to, sir. You said—”

“Yes, of course I do!” interrupted his lordship hastily. “But it so happens that I was about to drive to Richmond, to try the paces of my new team. How would you like to go with me there, instead of to the foundry?”

“Oh, no!” protested Felix.

This was too much for Jessamy. He exclaimed passionately: “You clodpole! You—you stupid little looby! Liefer visit a foundry than sit behind those bang-up grays we s-saw drive up to the house? You must have rats in your garret!”

“I like machines better than horses,” said Felix simply.

In the interests of peace, the Marquis intervened yet again. “Well, there’s no disputing about taste. If your heart is set on the foundry, the foundry it shall be. Do you want to inspect the grays, Jessamy? Go and talk to my groom about them! You may tell him that I shan’t need them after all today.”

“Oh!—Thank you, sir! I would like to take a look at them!” Jessamy said, his scowl vanishing.

With a passing admonition to Felix to keep Luff quiet, he hastened out of the room. By the time he returned, Felix was consuming a hearty meal of plum cake, washed down by copious draughts of lemonade; and eagerly (if sometimes a trifle thickly) holding forth on blast-pipes and safety valves. Mr Trevor, dredging from the depths of his memory such elementary knowledge of the principles governing steam-power as he had happened to acquire during the course of his career, was labouring manfully to keep pace with him; and the Marquis, lounging at his graceful ease in a wing-chair, was observing him with a smile of unholy amusement.

With the entrance of Jessamy, the conversation took an abrupt turn. Adjuring Felix not to be a dead bore, he favoured the Marquis with his enthusiastic opinion of the grays. “Complete to a shade!” he said. “Deep, broad chests, light necks, and their hocks perfectly straight! And the quarters so well let-down! I never saw such a well-matched team—and they go well together, too! Your man drove me round the Square behind them—he thought you would not object to it!—and I particularly liked their forward action! High-steppers may be all very well for barouches and landaulets, but for a phaeton, or a curricle, or even a mere gig, I prefer the forward action, don’t you, sir?”

“I do,” agreed Alverstoke. “Have some lemonade!”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” said Jessamy, taking the glass from Charles Trevor’s hand. “No, no cake—thank you!”

“It’s a good one!” said Felix, generously wishing his elder to share the treat.

Ignoring this interpolation, Jessamy drank his lemonade, and said: “If you please, sir, what did you give those men—the park-keepers, and the cowman?”

“Never mind that!” replied Alverstoke. “I am going to Newmarket tomorrow, and shall be away for a sennight, but when I return to London I shall try out those grays: would you like to go with me?”

The answer was plainly to be read in Jessamy’s sudden flush, and kindling eyes. He gasped: “Sir—.’”

but, an instant later, his countenance hardened, and he said: “I would like it very much, sir—but—but—I must repay you for the sum you expended to save Luff!”

This declaration confronted Alverstoke at once with a novel situation, and a dilemma. No other member of his family had ever felt it incumbent upon him (or her) to repay the sums he had from time to time disbursed: all too many of them demanded unlimited largesse as a right; and not two hours previously he had registered a silent vow to decline to assume the smallest responsibility for Fred Merriville’s sons. That was one thing. He now discovered that it was quite another to allow a stripling to hand over to him, out of what he guessed to be a small allowance, whatever sum Charles Trevor had been obliged to spend on Lufra’s behalf. Fighting against fate, he said: “Believe me, it is quite unnecessary! I neither know nor care what it cost to redeem Lufra—and if you badger me on this very boring matter I shall not invite you to go with me when I try out my new team!”

There was a moment’s tense silence; then Jessamy raised his eyes, no longer glowing, but uncomfortably austere. “Very well, sir,” he said quietly. “Will you tell me, if you please, what I owe you?”

“No, young Stiff-rump! I will not!”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but there is no reason that I know of why you should be obliged to pay for my dog’s trespass.”

“Then you cannot be aware that your father—er—commended you all to my care,” replied his lordship, driven into the last ditch.

“My sister told me something of the sort,” said Jessamy, frowning, “but I don’t see how that can have been, for I know he left no Will.”

‘‘Since the matter was between him and me. it would be astonishing if you did see how it came about. It doesn’t concern you. As for Luff’s misdemeanour, I wish to hear no more about it. Don’t take him into the Green Park again!”

The deliberate hauteur with which he spoke had its calculated effect: Jessamy’s conscience might trouble him, but it was superseded by a vague but horrid fear that he had committed a social solecism. He stammered: “N-no, sir! It—it is very kind of you! I didn’t know—! Pray don’t be offended! One—one doesn’t like to be beholden—But if you are indeed our guardian it alters the case—I suppose!”

The Marquis smiled at him, which, as it was not given to him to read the thoughts hidden by the smile, very much relieved his mind. Had he known that the Marquis was wondering what madness had seized him, and to what tiresome lengths he might be expected to go now that he had so rashly acknowledged the Merrivilles’ claim upon him, Jessamy would have suffered an agony of mortification; but as he knew nothing about his lordship’s habitual reluctance to interest himself in the affairs of his relatives he was able to take his leave blithely, and to stride back to Upper Wimpole Street in the best of spirits, and with his head full of the delightful prospect of driving to Richmond with his lordship, and even, perhaps, of being allowed to handle the reins himself for a little way.

Meanwhile, the Marquis had set out for Wardour Street, his youthful companion prancing beside him, and beguiling the tedium of the way by describing to him in detail the various exhibits he had that morning seen at Merlin’s Mechanical Museum. These included such attractions as a juggler, an aerial cavalcade, Merlin’s Cave, and a set of Antique Whispering Busts (very ingenious); but these had not interested Felix as much as a hydraulic vase, a band of mechanical music, and a mechanical cruising frigate. If it was still in existence (but his little guide-book was rather out-of-date), he meant next to visit an exhibition at Spring Gardens, where Maillardet’s Automaton was to be seen. This marvel, according to the tattered guide-book he dragged from his pocket, was a musical lady, who was advertized, rather alarmingly, to perform most of the functions of animal life, and to play sixteen airs upon an organized pianoforte, by the actual pressure of the fingers. No, he had not visited the British Museum: except for a collection of stuffed birds, it held nothing but fusty old things, which only such people as Jessamy liked.

Several persons with whom Alverstoke was well acquainted were encountered on the way, a circumstance which led, later, to a good deal of discussion in the clubs. The merchant-dandy, Mr Thomas Raikes, known to the ton as Apollo, because (said the irreverent) he had risen in the east and was setting in the west, had been dumbfounded to see Alverstoke with a schoolboy beside him when he had emerged from his own house in Berkeley Square; and Mr Rufus Lloyd, meeting Alverstoke in Bond Street, and asking whither he was bound, was later able to disclose, in bewildered accents, that he was going to visit a foundry in Soho. This was generally received with incredulity; but Sir Henry Mildmay, a man of more parts than the Red Dandy, had no hesitation in saying, with an indulgent but odiously superior smile: “I am afraid he was roasting you, Rufus.” Lord Petersham, a lifelong friend of Alverstoke’s, came nearest to the mark when he said, with his slight lisp: “Taking one of hith nephewth there, I darethay.”

Mr Endymion Dauntry, also meeting Alverstoke in Bond Street, could have set Petersham right, but he was not present at the discussion, and he had been only mildly surprised to see the Marquis with a schoolboy in tow. A magnificent young man, Mr Dauntry: splendidly built, and classically featured; with a profile that commanded the admiration of a number of ladies, who declared that he might pose as a model for Greek statuary; a pair of brown eyes; beautifully moulded lips; and curling brown locks above a noble brow. Such an extraordinary degree of good-looks inevitably attracted attention; and if his understanding had been more than moderate, and his conversation more entertaining, he would have been a prime favourite with the ladies. This, unfortunately, was not the case. He was amiable and polite, but as he was also slow-witted, and untroubled by ideas, his conversation consisted of laboured commonplaces, and only became animated when he was describing the obstacles successfully cleared in the course of a hazardous five-mile point, the circumstances which had led to his taking a toss at a regular rasper, or the sport he had enjoyed on some capital scenting-day. His brother officers rated him a very good fellow, but nicknamed him, in affectionate derision, Noddy Dauntry, to which he raised not the smallest objection, merely smiling sleepily, and saying that he never had been one of the downy ones. He was a dutiful son, and a kind brother; and although he happily accepted an allowance from Alverstoke (as well as his cornetcy, and his horses), he was very grateful for these benefits, and rarely applied to him for further monetary assistance.

When he caught sight of Alverstoke in Bond Street, he immediately crossed the road to greet him, beaming with honest pleasure, and saying, as he stretched out his hand: “Cousin Vernon! Devilish good of you to invite my sister to your ball—’pon my soul it is! Mama is devilish obliged to you, and so am I too, of course!”

“Do you mean to grace it with your presence?” enquired Alverstoke.

“Oh, by Jupiter, yes! I should rather think I do! What a squeeze it will be!”

“Devilish!” agreed his lordship.

“Bound to be!” said Endymion, wisely nodding. “First ball at Alverstoke House since Cousin Eliza’s come-out—so Mama says! Bound to be a squeeze!” Becoming aware of the presence of Master Felix Merriville, who, bored with this conversation, had given the Marquis’s sleeve an admonitory tug, he looked down at him from his Olympian height, vaguely surprised, and then directed a questioning look at Alverstoke. Informed that Felix was Fred Merriville’s youngest child, he said: “No, is he? Well, by Jove! Fred Merriville!” After that, he somewhat naively added: “Got a devilish bad memory!—Who isFred Merriville?”

“He was a cousin of mine,” coolly replied the Marquis. “Unhappily, he is now deceased; and as he was some years my senior I should doubt whether you ever knew him.”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t,” confessed Endymion. “But I have it now! You’ve become guardian to his children, cousin! Mama was telling me. Said you were giving the ball for them. She don’t seem to like it above half, but I’ll be dashed if I know why!” He lowered his gaze again to Felix’s impatient countenance, and a frown creased his brow. “Except that—well, damn it, this nipperkin don’t want to go to a ball, do you, young ‘un?”

“No!” said Felix, with unnecessary emphasis. “I want to go to the foundry!”

“You shall, Felix, you shall!” said the Marquis reassuringly. He bent his sardonic glance upon his heir, and said: “Perhaps you would like to accompany us, Endymion?”

Mr Dauntry, though he laid no claim to being (as he phrased it) up to all the rigs, was by no means (as he also phrased it) a bag-pudding. Foundries were connected in his mind, in a rather nebulous way, with guns, and he said, knowledgeably: “Artillery, eh? No, no, beyond my touch, cousin!”

He then took leave of Alverstoke, and proceeded on his way, feeling none of the amazement or the apprehension which tortured his mother and his astute Cousin Louisa, but accepting with perfect equanimity Alverstoke’s explanation of the interest he felt in the unknown Merrivilles.

Any faint hope that Alverstoke might have cherished that he would be denied admittance to the foundry perished at the outset. His estimable secretary had not failed to pave the way for him: no sooner had he presented his card than every door, metaphorically speaking, was flung wide, and the head of the foundry, attended by various senior satellites, was hastily summoned to conduct him all over the building. This extremely competent person not only declared that he was honoured by his lordship’s visit, but assured him also of his readiness to explain the intricacies of whatever piece of modern machinery it was that had attracted his lordship’s curiosity: a promise which convinced Felix that his instinct had not misled him when it had prompted him to reject the offer of Mr Trevor’s escort. “He would have never have done it for Mr—Mr Thingummy!” he whispered triumphantly.

By what his lordship considered to be a rare stroke of good fortune, the manager of the foundry was not only the progenitor of a large family, but had failed to discover in any of his sons a trace of his genius. Within five minutes of making the youngest Merriville’s acquaintance he recognized in him a kindred spirit; and from then on the Marquis was allowed, much to his relief, to sink into the background. He followed meekly in the wake of the enthusiasts; and the tedium of the expedition was alleviated for him by Felix, in whom he found himself taking an unexpected interest. He knew little, and cared less, about blowing-machines or pneumatic lifts, but he very soon realized that the questions Felix put to their guide showed sufficient knowledge to command that expert’s respect. He began to think that there was more to Felix than he had at first supposed; and he was not surprised when, at the end of their exhaustive tour of the foundry, the manager ventured to congratulate him on that young gentleman’s remarkable understanding. He was aware of a flicker of pride in his protégé, and that did surprise him.

As for Felix himself, it was evident that nothing in his experience had ever come within striking distance of the high treat he had enjoyed. Rendered almost inarticulate by the speculations engendered in his busy brain by the information he had acquired, he could only stammer out his gratitude, and express (anxiously) the hope that Cousin Alverstoke had also enjoyed himself. “J-Jessamy said you didn’t w-want to come, but you did, sir, d-didn’t you?”

“To be sure I did!” replied the Marquis, perjuring his soul without hesitation.

“And even if you didn’t, you m-must have been interested!” said Felix, with a brilliant smile.

The Marquis agreed to this too. He then summoned up a hackney, and put Felix into it, directing the jarvey to drive him to Upper Wimpole Street, and at the same time bestowing a guinea upon Felix: largesse so handsome as to deprive the recipient of all power of speech until the jarvey had whipped up his horse, and to make it necessary for him to lean perilously out of the window of the hack to shout his thanks to his benefactor.